him cough. He raised his bloody knees and swayed
between his hoof and foot. A light blue blade
scored the black rock: beyond, an afternoon
or morning sun, a late or early moon;
afar, a sea. His eyes, relearning light,
studied the cave’s smooth entrance, where some rite
had piled up bones beneath a painted wall:
a once red god was standing on a tall
boulder or long boat, while unmown grass
or green waves curled above a bar’s pale brass.
Asterion recalled the king he hated: